Chapter 28

Miss Kitty managed to keep the bright smile plastered on, even though she had recognized the unmarked police car from Maya’s first visit. Before Maya could say anything, Miss Kitty raised her hand in a stop gesture.

“No need to explain.”

“Thank you.”

As had quickly become customary, Lily went to Miss Kitty with no reservations. Miss Kitty opened the door to that sun-bright yellow room. The happy laughter seemed to swallow her daughter whole. Lily disappeared without so much as a backward glance at her mother.

“She’s a wonderful girl,” Miss Kitty said.

“Thank you.”

Maya left her car in the Growin’ Up lot and got into Kierce’s. He tried to start a conversation during the ride, but Maya was having none of it. They drove to Newark in silence. Half an hour later, Maya was ensconced in a classic interrogation room in the county police station. There was a video camera set up on a small tripod on the table. Curly made sure that it was facing her and then switched it on. He asked her if she was willing to answer questions. She said yes. He asked her to sign a sheet indicating that. She did.

Kierce had big hands with hairy knuckles. He placed them on the table and tried to give her a “relax, it’s all good” smile. Maya did not return it.

“Do you mind if we start at the beginning?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Pardon?”

“You said you have some new information,” Maya said.

“That’s correct.”

“So why don’t you start there?”

“Bear with me a second first, okay?”

Maya said nothing.

“When your husband was shot, you identified two men who you claimed tried to rob you and your husband?”

“Claimed?”

“It’s just terminology, Mrs. Burkett. Do you mind if I call you Mrs. Burkett?”

“Nope. What’s your question?”

“We found two men who fit those descriptions. Emilio Rodrigo and Fred Katen. We asked you to identify them, which you did to the best of your ability, but according to your testimony, they wore ski masks. As you know, we couldn’t hold them, though we are prosecuting Rodrigo on a weapons charge.”

“Okay.”

“Before your husband’s murder, did you know either Emilio Rodrigo or Fred Katen?”

Whoa. Where was he going with that? “No.”

“You’ve never met either one of them before?”

She looked at Curly. He was a stone. Then she turned back toward Kierce. “Never.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Because one theory is that it wasn’t a robbery, Mrs. Burkett. One possible theory is that you hired them to kill your husband.”

Maya again looked at Curly, then again back at Kierce.

“You know that’s not true, Detective Kierce.”

“Oh? How do I know that?”

“Two ways. One, if I had hired Emilio Rodrigo and Fred Katen, I wouldn’t have identified them to the police, would I have?”

“Maybe you wanted to double-cross them.”

“Sounds risky on my part, don’t you think? From what I understand, the only tie you had to these two men was my testimony. If I don’t say anything, you never go after them. So why would I identify them? Wouldn’t it be in my best interest to keep mum?”

He had no answer to that.

“And if for some odd reason,” she continued, “you do think I, what, hired them and then set them up, why would I say they wore ski masks? Wouldn’t I just positively ID them so you could make the arrest?”

Kierce opened his mouth, but Maya, taking a page from Miss Kitty, stopped him with a hand gesture.

“And before you give some bullshit excuse, we both know that’s not why I’m here. And before you ask how I know that, we are in Newark, not New York City. We are in the jurisdiction of Curly here—sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

“Essex County detective Demetrius Mavrogenous.”

“Great, do you mind if I stick with Curly? But let’s stop wasting all of our time, shall we? If this was about Joe’s murder, we would be in your Central Park Precinct, Detective Kierce. Instead, we find ourselves in Newark, which is Essex County, the jurisdiction for Livingston, New Jersey, which was where the body of Tom Douglass was located last night.”

“Not located,” Kierce said, trying to regain any kind of momentum, “but found. By you.”

“Yes, well, that’s not new information, is it?”

She stopped and waited.

“No,” Kierce finally said. “It isn’t.”

“Great. And I’m not under arrest, am I?”

“No, you’re not.”

“So stop with the games, Detective. Tell me what you found that led to my being here this morning.”

Kierce looked at Curly. Curly nodded.

“Please look at the screen to your right.”

There was a flat-screen television hung on the wall. Curly picked up a remote, turned it on, and a video came to life. It was from a CCTV security camera at a gas station. You could see one gas pump and, in the background, the street and a traffic light. Maya couldn’t say where this gas station was located exactly, but she had a pretty good idea of where this was going. She sneaked a glance at Kierce. Kierce was watching her for a reaction.

“Hold up,” Curly said, “right here.”

He hit the pause button. He started to zoom in, and Maya could see her car at the red light facing right. The camera focused in toward the back of her car. “We can only make out the first two letters, but they match your license plate. Is that your car, Mrs. Burkett?”

She could argue and say that there were probably other BMWs with license plates that started with those two letters, but what was the point? “It appears to be.”

Kierce nodded at Curly. Curly lifted the remote and pressed the button. The camera moved toward the passenger-door window. All eyes fell to her.

“Who is that man in the passenger seat?” Kierce asked.

There was too much glare on the window to see more than a baseball cap and a smudge that was unmistakably a person.

Maya did not reply.

“Mrs. Burkett.”

She stayed silent.

“You told us last night that you were alone when you found Mr. Douglass’s body, isn’t that correct?”

Maya looked at the screen. “I don’t see anything here that contradicts that.”

“You’re clearly not alone.”

“And I’m clearly not at the body shop where the body was found.”

“Are you telling us that this man—”

“You sure it’s a man?”

“Pardon?”

“I see a smudge and a baseball cap. Women wear baseball caps.”

“Who is this, Mrs. Burkett?”

She was not about to tell them about Corey Rudzinski. She had agreed to come here with them because she wanted to know what they had. Now she knew. So again she asked, “Am I under arrest?”

“No.”

“Then I think it’s time I left.”

Kierce grinned at her. She didn’t like the grin. “Maya?”

No more Mrs. Burkett.

“That’s not why we brought you in.”

Maya stayed where she was.

“We spoke to Mrs. Douglass, the widow. She told us about your visit.”

“No secret there. I told you that last night.”

“And so you did. Mrs. Douglass told us that you came because you believe that your sister, Claire, had questioned her husband. Isn’t that correct?”

Maya saw no reason not to admit this. “As I already told you.”

Kierce gave her the head tilt. “How did you know your sister visited Tom Douglass?”

That she didn’t want to answer. Kierce had clearly expected that.

“Did you get another anonymous tip from a mystery source?”

Maya didn’t answer.

“So, if I have this right, you got a tip from a mysterious source about Claire reaching out to Tom Douglass. And then you got a tip from a mysterious source about Tom Douglass’s storage unit. Tell me, Maya: Did you back up either of those tips on your own?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you have any proof your mystery source was telling the truth?”

She made a face. “Well, I know that Claire did visit Tom Douglass.”

“Did she?”

Maya started to feel a niggling at the back of her neck.

“And while I agree Tom Douglass was indeed at the storage shed—that was certainly a good tip—your mystery source kind of left you holding the bag, wouldn’t you say?”

Kierce rose and walked toward the television screen. “And I assume,” Kierce said, pointing at the baseball cap smudge, “that this is your mystery source?”

Maya said nothing.

“I assume that this man—just for the fun of it, let’s say it’s a man; I think I see facial hair—was the one who led you to the storage shed?”

Maya folded her hands and put them on the table. “And if he did?”

“He was clearly in your car, correct?”

“So?”

“So”—Kierce came back over, placed his fists on the table, and leaned toward her—“we found blood in the trunk of your car, Mrs. Burkett.”

Maya stayed perfectly still.

“Type AB-positive. The same blood type as Tom Douglass. Do you mind telling us how it got there?”